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The Jumble Book of Rhymes 

Recited by the J u m b I e r 



The Jumble Book of Rhymes 

Recited by The Jumhler 



By frank R. HEINE. 
Illustrations by G. C. Cobb. 
Cover Design by Jack Cooley. 



Hackney & Moale Company, Publishers. 
Asheville, North Carolina. 



Price $i.oo Net. 



Copyright, June, 1919. 
By Frank B. Heine. 



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'Many people read a song 
Who will not read a sermon. 



AUG I! ^-oV6 
©CI.A529617 



Foreword 

Pegasus is a queer old nag, and many of his 
ivould-be riders find him most unruly. We mount him 
and are off for a wee nip of Hippocrene. We want 
liini to lacy along like a plough horse, ivhile zve pluck 
daisies, but he insists on demonstrating that, like a 
Hainhletonian, he has all of the High School gaits. 
And ivhen zve pass the Queen's carriage, expecting him 
to step stately and look like a million dollars, the old 
plug stumbles and limps, and is classed by all as a cas- 
ual. So please, please blame the horse — and not the 
rider. 



Dedication 

To the hoys who have found the old War Horse 
a dangerous animal, have come to cropper in the Big 
Muss, and are now assigned to bunk fatigue, we offer 
these rhymes. Though, they are crippled; and limp, 
and halt, and stumble at times — yet we trust they may, 
for all that, break through zuhen General Monotony is 
entertaining a company of Blue Devils, and for a few 
moments, at least, put to rout serious and somber 
thoughts. 

To the casuals now enjoying hospital hospitality 
at Kenilworth (Biltmore) and Oteen (Azalea), this 
jumble of rhytnes is dedicated. 

Pick it up, Buddy, it's a dud. 

—F. R. H. 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 




Greetings 

A New Year Greeting in zvhich the Jumhler hopes to meet 

you soon. 

My wish most dear for your New Year 

I'm quite sincere in giving ; 
When next we meet, on Easy Street 

I hope that you'll be living. 

P. S. — And I hope I meet you soon. 



[ 9 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Introspection 

The old nag, Pegasus, ini'itcs the Jumhler to an introspective 
mood as lie lopes along. It is Thanksgiving, 1917. 

Am I thankful ? 
Let-me-see — 
World, Flesh, Devil 
Good to nie ; 
Friends still loyal, 
Coin in banks — 
Stop this minute ! 
ril give thanks. 

What of troubles 
Lately past? 
Well, at least they 
Didn't last. 
Not a single 
Scar remains, 
Nor remembrance 
Of the pains. 

So, Fm thinking 
That from me 
There is due great 
Gobs of glee. 
Though a slacker, 
From this day 
.* Fll be grateful — 

Let us Pray ! 



[ 10 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 




An Acknowledgment 

(From Him to Her). 
The receipt of a gift he cannot label leads the Juinbler to recite 
I thank you for the hickeydee, 
The thingamabob you sent ; 
The trickamadoo's the very thing 
On which my heart was bent. 

The dofunny's style and color 

Puts all dodads to shame ; 
The jiggermaree's the swellest thing 

That ever bore that name. 

Appreciation's most sincere, 

But I'll no longer lie — 
Pray be a sport and tell me quick : 

What is the thing" — and why? 



[ II ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Pay! Pay!! Pay!!! 

In which the Jimibler notes the profusion and the pertinacity of 
the Pauls and the pitiful paucity of Peters. 

I'm daily robbing Peter for to pay 

Old Mr. Paul; 
I swear it's hard them both to 

satisfy ; 
Pauls in legions me pursue, but the 

Peters are so few — 
I lie awake at night and wonder why. 

The hope of every Peter is some day 

to be a Paul. 
Then little Peters must be set to 

sprout. 
Ev'ry chance of Paul for pay would 

forever pass away 
The day the tribe of Peter 

petered out. 



[ 12 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Taffy and the Man 

As a member of the Taffy Consumers' League, the Jumbler 
offers this bit of defence: 

I have eaten grits and gravy in the Southland now and then, 

I have Hved on CaHfornia's kiscious fruits; 
I've inhaled long-stringed spaghetti in Italia, and again 

In the Klondike once I dined on cowhide boots. 

Of course I've supped at Rector's, at the Cecil, and the rest ; 

Tackled truffles and de foie gras in Paree ; 
I have bolted guava jelly and tortillas, Madrid's best, 

And I've chop-sticked bird's-nest soup a la Chinee. 

But of all the palate-ticklers on the whole world's bill of fare, 
Whether ladled out at morning, night or noon, 

Not a gustatory stimulant that I know can compare 
With a little dab of taffy on a spoon. 




[ 13 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



If a man is grouched or peevish, if in doHng cash he's slow — 

Just a Httle bit of taffy — presto ! won ! ! 
Every married woman knows it — every girhe ought to i<now : 

If you feed a man of taffy he's undone. 

When a man tries introspection, then he stacks up mighty small ; 

So he keeps from this self-searching all he can; 
Yet a feeling lies inherent, never's lost in him at all, 

That he'd like to be a bigger, better man. 

So when other people tell him that he's bigger, nicer far, 

Or a better chap than he himself can see, 
There is worked a transformation and his stock goes way 'bove 
par. 

And he feels the man he'd really like to be. 

It's not \'anity that does it, but his Better Self you view 
As he smiles and purrs and pleases all he can. 

As a corking good investment I would hand this tip to you : 
Just try always feeding taffy to a man. 

Do not stinge nor be too saving, don't conserve this priceless, 
boon, 

But feed as though you had an endless store ; 
Whh an appetite voracious he will gulp it from the spoon, 

And when all's gone he'll loudly cry for more. 



[ 14 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Myself vs. Me 

Some scrioits thoughts on the psychology of Respectability. 

My life is one long battle, 

Between Myself and Me ; 
I see the right, yet do the wrong — 

This much too frequently. 

I have the foolish habit, 

That oft brings me disgrace, 
Of cutting off my Roman nose 

To spite my ugly face. 

I'm daily robbing Peter 

To pay Old Mister Paul— 
Though cosmos out of chaos 

It never makes at all. 



I jump out of the skillet 

Into the fire that's hot ; 
With fingers burned I dread the blaze. 

But quit it? I guess not ! 



And so goes on the battle 
Between Myself and Me — 

Old Satan ])ulling fiercely 'gainst 
Res[)ectability ? 




[ 15 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



To "The Quiet Observer" 

An appreciation — wherein the Jumhler indites the following to 
the space zvriter w^ho quotes from Jiiim and Riley. 

I sat me down in pride to gloat 
Upon the column that you wrote, 
In which you, sir, were pleased to quote 
From me and Riley — 
From me and him, 
From me and Jim, 

From me and Riley. 



The tout ensemble did impel 
My manly chest to heave and swell ; 
The combination "liked me well;" 
Me, you and Riley. 
It seemed a great 
Triumvirate — 

Me, You and Riley. 

But soon in deep humility 
My head was bowed, and I could see 
The difference 'tween little ™^ 
And You and Riley. 
I lacked the art 

To touch the heart 

Like you and Riley. 

[ i6 ] 



THE JUMBL E BOOK OF RHYMES 

You seem to write with greatest ease, 
Of cheerful mien, of birds and bees, 
And out-of-doorsy things one sees — 
And so does Riley. 

With master-stroke, 
To common folk 

Write you and Riley. 

I take a hack-saw and a square 
And cut my rhymes with greatest care ; 
'Tis harder work for me, I swear, 
Than you and Riley. 
And yet I fail 

To hit the nail 

Like you and Riley. 

You write in prose — a rhymer he — 
And yet 't has always seemed to me 
Your souls alike must surely be — 
^ours, sir, and Riley's. 
You love each thing 

Of which you sing — 
Do you and Riley. 



[ 17 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



A bas Polyanna 



C9/9 



Wherein the Jumhler finds the Cheeruptimistic 
Lore a bore. 

I hate the Pollyanna cult ! Cheeruptimistic lore, that now 
confronts at every turn, long since became a bore. In daily 
press, in magazines, in every thing I read, the sugar-coated life's 
prescribed as man's most urgent need. 'Tis O be joyful, grin 
and smile, let tears be left unshed ; just purr and sing the 
whole day long, then pass it on ahead! If grandma dies or 
cook takes leave or father breaks a leg, be glad, be glad ; and 
if you're broke, why, whistle as you beg! Now I, for one, re- 
fuse to live a grinning Cheshire cat. I'm just as human, mad 
as glad — a fool can tell you that. All sunshine makes a desert 
waste, and honey-words soon pall ; because someone's in harder 
luck can't make me glad at all. A man has special muscles 
just to corrugate his brow ; the Lord knew when he fash- 
ioned them that they'd be used, and how. I want my friends 
without veneer, straightforward as can be ; and I will grant 
them outlet for innate depravity. Why bluff and play that 
grief's not real? Why blush to shed a tear? A temper may 
be lost and found, with Paradise still near. No need to gloom 
or grouch or fret, no need to howl or whine; but may the 
right to voice a grief or own a pain be mine. 



[ i8 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OP RHYMES 



If You'd Marry 

Advice to immmin "On Marriage," by the Jumhler. 

If the fish won't take your bait, 

Do not tarry. 
'Twill never do to sit and wait, 

If you'd marry. 
Gather up your hook and line, 
Somewhere 'round the water's fine ; 
Change your bait and keep on tryin' ! 

That's the system ! 

Should one rise in reach of you, 

Oh, be prayerful ! 
Take your gaff and run him through, 
But be careful ! 
Hold him tight for all you're worth, 
Of marryin' men there's now a dearth, 
And theu' — there're widows still on earth ! ! 
Curses on 'em ! 




If a widow steals a beau 

That you're landing. 

Practice up a knock-out blow — 
Him demanding. 

A perfect lady, though you've been. 

Just you cave her features in ! 

Killin' widows ain't no sin — 
Never will be ! 



[ 19 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



To My Valentine 

The Jtn)ibler, with one eye on the calendar, tells the thoughts 
he thinks — claiming iinuinnity the zi'hile. 

Saint Valentine, that good old gink, 

Gives license free to say with ink 

The things you feel, the thoughts you think. 

So timid youths, of courts afraid, 
Select this day to tell a maid 
Things otherwise best left unsaid. 

This custom all the judges know. 

And breach-of-promise suits don't go — 

So that's "how comes" what's writ below : 

I love you, dear, to beat the Dutch ! 
I love you, dear, gosh-awful much ! 
Now could you love, obey — and such? 

With love my heart seems 'bout to burst — • 
But I've now said all that I durst. 

With love to all, — John Safety First. 




[ 20 ] 



The Jumhler again mounts Pegasus, and carries lis 
through the Reahn of Dreams, where we come in touch 
with the Life Romantic. 
The Jumhler recites: 

All Mine in Dreams. 
Should Dreams Come True. 
Lotus Eating. 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



All Mine in Dreams 

The Jumhler, thinking of ''The Little House," also thinks of 
a little house-keeper. 

O little girl with wondrous eyes 

And charms of Graces Three ! 
"How have you come, why have you come 

To mean so much to me ?" 
Unrest within my heart you've raised — 

And yet, how sweet it seems ! 
My hopes, My dear, this much I know : 

You're mine, all mine, in dreams. 



O little maid, dear, dearest maid, 

Should you be lost to me 
Were I to wake and straightway go 

And tell my love to thee? 
What powers or aid could I invoke ? 

Alas ! dear one, it seems 
The risk's too great of losing all — 

So mine still stay in dreams. 




Hlo{ih-> 



[ 22 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 
Should Dreams Come True 

The Jiimhler zvakes up and credits himself ztnth a big heart. 

This man, O girl with charms untold, 

Has dreamed of Love and You ; 
And can it be somewhere's a land 

Where these dreams may come true? 
Ah, if there be, then willingly 

To rainbow's end he'll go, 
Or far's the place where seas begin — 

For, Girl, he loves you so ! 

And he, dear one, a king can be — 

Yes, by one way alone : 
That you, his Queen, through love for him, 

Should raise him to your throne. 
But whether he be king or serf. 

Of this be sure : thou art 
A mighty queen, whose realm is wide — 

You reign o'er all his heart. 



[ 23 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Lotus Eating 

In the land of In-a-minute, the land of Lots-of-time, 

The land of What's-the-hurry ? Manna-land sublime; 

The land of Sleep-a-whole-lot, — to me it ofttimes seems 

I sure should like to live there, for I'd have time for Dreams. 



{Here the Jumhler becomes personal) : 

Now I'd not waste a minute if I lived in that clime, 
But say good-bye to worry, and dream — well all the time. 
And what, dear, do you reckon my f ancy'd bring to view ? 
The answer is so easy: Sweetheart, I'd dream of You. 



[ 24 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Fergit Dem Dreams 

Leaving the Realm of Dreams, the Jumbler quotes the advice 
of a married friend. 

Aw, cut it, kid ! Dis lovin' gag 

Don't make no hit wid me; 
I've went de route and ought ter know — 

Fer, ain't I married? Gee! 
Dere's nuthin to it, fooHsh man ; 

None of 'em's what dey seems, 
De game's a bunk, Kid, all way tru — 

Wake up, fergit dem dreams ! 



[ 25 ] 



Most earnestly the Jumhler presents his views on Seri- 
ous Matters pertaining to Love and Life. 

Fickleness of Maidens. 

Constancy — As Applied to One Man. 

The One and The Only. 

Handle With Care. 

My Garden. 

My Threnody. 

Eternity. 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Fickleness of Maidens 

"Good-bye," I said to Mary, 
To Margie, Maud and May ; 

And I put them from me harshly 
And turned myself away. 

For my all in all was Maizie — 
I swore it on that day. 




But time came when my spirit 

Grew weary of its pace. 
And I cried, "Come back, dear ex-ones, 

I'm sick of just one face !" 
But they replied, "We cannot, 

Another has your place." 

{After Dunbar), 



[ 28 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Constancy — As Applied to One Man 

A man by Nature ne'er was meant 

To love one maid alone — 
E'en if by doing so he'd gain 

A seat upon a throne. 
Polygamous when 'comes to love — 

(Be diff'rent no man can) 
Monogony's monotony 

When 'plied to love of man ! 

Yet here am I! ('gainst Nature's law) — 

Mirabile die Hi — 
Loving one maid, and just one {sic), 

Exclusively and true ! 
As other men, I liv'd and lov'd 

Until you came my way — 
Now all my love is yours, O Queen, 

Forever and a day ! 




[ 29 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Dear, dear dead loves, one last farewell! 

Your graves no more I'll tend ; 
Your ghosts, whom I have welcomed oft, 

Their visits now must end. 
Sweet girls, whom I have lov'd — and lost — 

Loved? Yes, but for a day — 
I now have found my Queen of Hearts 

Whom I can love alway. 

I once thought that I lov'd you well — 

But O ! the love I feel 
For my dear Queen is diff'rent quite — 

And it's the love that's real. 
My Queen now has each thought, each dream ; 

No more I'll think of you — 
Love was, love's past for all save her — 

So, ex-loves all, adieu. 



Handle With Care 

The tangible always is frangible. 
(Proven long since, I take it). 

By chance or by art you've taken hold of my heart- 
But please, Little Girl, don't break it! 



[ 30 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



The One and The Only 

Hundreds of maids in this world have been born 
With many a charm that allures, dear ; 

Hundreds are radiant, fair as the morn — 
But never were eyes just like yours dear. 

Hundreds boast beauty of form and of face, 
Which always devotion assures, dear; 

Hundreds personification of grace, 

But none has a smile just like yours, dear. 




31 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 

Hundreds accomplished in letters and song, 

And hundreds attractive and clever ; 
Daily I walk through this limitless throng, 

Yet find none compares with you — ever. 

If from these hundreds an artist should mould 

A composite maid, near perfection ; 
Stand her beside you, to choose I be told — 

My dear, can't you guess my selection ? 

Hundreds and millions of maids there may be, 

And yet, without you I'd be lonely. 
Pray be convinced, for I speak truthfully : 

Dear, you are the One and the Only. 



[ 32 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



My Garden 

I wander into my garden, 

My garden of loves that are dead, 
And stop at a withered rose bush 

That once grew a blossom of red. 



How passionately, true I loved it, 

Thought without it I could not abide — 

How bitter it is to remember 

In a night it had withered and died. 

The violet that grew on the hillside 
I loved with a love that was true ; 

But 'twas snatched from me e'en as I held it- 
O, Violet, dear, how I loved you ! 

And dearest of all, the sweet June Rose, 
As a bud she'd come out first that year ; 

But I lost her just as I'd plucked her — 
The heartless and pitiless dear ! 

The lily and pink that I worshipped 
Each deigned but a season to stay. 

And returned not again though I waited 
And longed for them many a day. 

[33] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Dear loves that are dead, hear me say it : 

A loving good-bye to you all ! 
No more shall I visit this garden, 

For my true love grows just o'er the wall. 

Having loved you has made my love stronger 

For her whom I now so adore ; 
I'd truly not know how to love her 

Had I not loved you-all before. 

Good-bye, then, again, fairest garden ; 

Good-bye to you all, fickle dears ; 
Dear Rosemary, last, fondest treasure, 

Will be faithful to me through the years. 



[ 34 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



My Threnody 

The Weatherman's in direst straits ; 

All wrong are his predictions ; 
Not Bright and Fair, but Drear and Cold- 

And so his maledictions. 



Now I can give the answer to 

This scientific gent : 
'Tis not from meteoric change — 

But just 'cause She has went. 

I've read by hundreds love-stuff books, 

But ne'er believed one bit 
When sun was made to cease to shine 

When "She" made her exit. 

But now I know that they were right ; 

From Sol no rays are sent ; 
It's dull and gray and dismal quite — 

And all 'cause She has went. 




I cannot read, nor write, nor think 
Since She has went, Oh, dear ! 

Of compensation, though, there's heaps 
For, well, she once was here ! 

So I'll not mind the fierce heart pain 
That naught seems to allay. 

She's went, ah me ! but I shall hope 
That she'll come back some day. 



[ 35 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Eternity 



She's coming — 
The woman I loved and lost ! 
Widowed at last and once more free. 
One hand, two, or arms ? Ah, me ! 
Our meeting, her greeting — .... 
O what will it be? 



She's coming — 

The woman I loved — and love ! 
Long have I waited so hopelessly ; 
One year, all — yet faithfully. 
Returning! I'm yearning .... 
Be kind, gods, to me ! 



Yes, coming! 

O woman beloved of all. 

Come to arms that still ache so for thee ! 

One age, two, Eternity 

For loving, for Loving 

Awaits you and me. 



36 ] 



INTERMISSION 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 
A MEDLEY 

{Rendered by the Jtimbler during the Intermission) . 

I 'Ear Noes 

The Jumbler turns some anatomical terms. 

The night has a thousand eyes, 

The day to one lays claim ; 
The big brown pair that you, dear, wear 

Sure puts them all to shame. 

It seems 'bout a thousand years 

My heart you've trod in dust ; 
But lend an ear and litsen, dear : 

The end of waste is bust. 

Though I've heard a thousand noes — 

As someone knows is true — 
An aye once said, we'll soon be wed. 
Or I'll be ever blue. 



Ode to a Sylphine Figure 

Thinner yet and thinner — 
I would be like thee. 
I am nearly drowned in 
Perspiration's sea. 
From my adiposeness 
I'd be set clear free — 
Though it means my joining 
Broomstick cavalry. 

[ 38 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Feelin' Blue 

My nose is red, 
I'm feeling blue ! 
If you had bawled 

I guess so'd you .... be feelin' blue. 
BECAUSE I Have Just Run Into a Nest of Crying 
Women 



I went to a Niobe party, 

Where all were expected to bawl ; 
There were peachy repiners and whiners in minors- 

Your "Uncle" wailed loudest of all. 




%(>U4-^ 



A Bare Story 

Nobody loves a man that's bald, 

I've often heard it said ; 
But why does Love, then, laugh at locks ?- 

It makes me scratch my head. 



[ 39 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



A Truth 

A simple truth I give to you 
To always recollect ; 

There is one thing — and that's Friendship- 
Will not thrive on neglect. 



Hooverize 

An order of Hoover's 

I think is quite good ; 
"Don't feed your dear husband — 

But husband your food." 



Fine 

"It must be fine," the Sweet Thing cried, 
"To write a poem like his'n." 
"It should be fine," the man replied, 
"Plus thirty days in prison." 



[ 40 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Fugax, Sequax; Sequax, Fugax 

Maids, they say, like shadows are : 

(I wonder if it's true). 
Follow, and they run away ; 

Retreat, they follow you ! 



A Betrayal of Irish Ancestry 

If you ask my wish sincerest, 
I will quickly make reply : 

May you live — yes, live forever — 
And be happy till you die. 



Exit Cooky 

Our queasy queen of the cuisine 
A queer, querulous creature has long been ; 
In her quite quiet way she quickly quit on Sunday- 
Quid est? Quid nunc? Why — quondam! 



The Limit 

Prissy, persnickety people there be. 
Fastidious, finical ones, we see ; 
But the fussiest man in town by far, 
Is he who washes his little Ford car. 

[ 41 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Safety First 

Propinquity plus 

Proximity, plus 

A little Encouragement, dear, 

And havoc you'd play 

With my heart. I'm away 

To the umbrageous dingles, through fear. 



Unbearable 

Three things my nature cannot stand — 
I'll name them, if you please: 

Temptation and Encouragement; 
Neglect's the worst of these. 



Wrong Prescription 

Tell me, please, sir, Mr. Captain — 
It's advice I'm lookin' fer — 

Is it true carbolic acid 
Is good for cooties, sir ? 

Are you serious, poor rookie, 

Or are you making fun ? 
What you mention isn't good at all- 

It kills 'em every one. 

[ 42 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Seeing Double 

"Look twice before you leap, son/ 
My mother oft told me. 

Each time I take a second look, 
A second girl I see. 



The only thing that's better — 
You'll think me quite a dunce — 

Would be to have diplopia, 
Then I'd see two at once. 



Wisdom 

Napoleon was a wise old guy ; 

A saying of his ran 
Like this : "To all who would be safe. 

Don't write, just send a man !" 



[ 43 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Just Talk 

FoUozinng the Intermission the Jumbier unravels the differengg 
between speech and talk and think and thought. 

From time an infant draws first breath 

And 'gins its virgin squaking, 
Each mother proud, not saving one, 

Translates all goos as talking. 

This goo means this, a girr means that — 

A new word every minute — 
It yells! Says pa, "My dear, you're right, 

There's surely something in it." (A pin, perhaps). 

Milk-Latin talk lasts 'bout a year, 

And then, strict truth I'm telling, 
A plain "Mam-ma" may strike your ear — 

In interim of yelling. 

The next few years great strides are made ; 

Mamma is fair ecstatic. 
For now it talks as good as dad — 

'Cept 'course, it's not grammatic. 

And then comes slang, and cussing, too — 

If it's a boy, the latter — 
But if a girl, the whole day through 

It's giggle, chatter, chatter, 

[ 44 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 

And now it's grown, and still it talks ! 

But will somebody answer : 
How much is said that tends to help 

Despondent fellow-man, sir? 

And words of comfort, love and cheer 

Are all not slow in giving? 
Yet it's the joy we scatter here 

That makes our lives worth living. 

From birth till death it's talk, talk, talk ! 

But listen, please, and ponder : 
What would it mean if speech meant thought? 

Who would be dumb, I wonder? 




[ 45 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 
The Man Who Made Umph-ta-ta Smile 

// to Heaven you tvouJd go — Smile. 

A god once was made and heathen had prayed 

To him throughout many a year ; 
His face was distort with a frown of the sort 

That gave them all quakings of fear. 
The rulers in line, of whom there'd been nine, 

Each published this royal decree: 
The man ivho*ll beguile our fierce god to smile 

May claim the King's crown as his fee. 



From all the world o'er had come by the score 

The jester, the fool and the clown ; 
With quip and with jest had each tried his best, 

Yet not one displaced the god's frown. 
Joe Miller and Twain had been quoted in vain, 

(Each man as he failed was exiled.) 
But failures all scored, the god still looked bored, 

Then I appeared — and he smiled ! 



When his visage had cleared, the heathen all cheered 
And each wore a smile good to see; 

[ 46 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 

With shouting and song they bore me along 

Till straight to the King they'd brought me. 
The King then stepped down, said 

"Sir, here's my crown, 

And gold you shall have by the pile, 
But tell me, I pray, just what did you say 

That made our god, Umph-ta-ta, smile?" 

"Your crown and your pelf, Sire, keep for yourself," 

I said, "but pray listen to me : 
I just made the trial — a smile for a smile — 

And succeeded. Good King, as you see. 
Of pomp. Noble Sire, and of power I should tire, 

And soon think them not worth my while, 
Contented I'll be if 't can be said of me: 

'He's the man who makes everyone smile'." 

Pray heed me, O King, a smile, Sire is the thing 

That will win you a smile in return ; 
Just try it and see, and I'm sure you'll agree 

'Tis a thing that all people should learn. 
Your wise pulpiteers may belabor your ears 

With all the orthodox doctrines extant. 
But if t' Heaven you'd go, then you might as well know 

'Nless you smile throughout life — well, you can't! 

[ 47 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 

There's nothing ivorth zvhile can't be zvon with a smile — 

A maxim you prove when you try — 
I must now be gone to pass the word on ; 

ThereVe others who need it. Good-bye!" 



My story you've heard — well, then, just one word : — 

Is anyone now within sight? 
Just smile on him, do — why, he's smiling at you! 

Your very first test proves I'm right. 



[ 48 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 
Myself and Me 

Unlike George Cohan, the Jimibler doesn't love himself. 

'Tis torrid here and all have gone 

To seashore on a trot ; 
I'm left alone, alas ! and I'm 

The only friend I've got. 

I've walked with me and talked with me 

Until I'm satiate ; 
I'm sick and tired and bored with me ; 

The thought of me I hate. 

Divorce I'd have 'tween self and me; 

For happiness I'd strike ; 
We're surely incompatible 

'Cause too darned much alike. 




[ 49 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



C'est la Guerre 

After throiving his friends into fits, the Junibler decides his 
Soldier-French ivon't go. 

There are some folks, alas ! I know 
Who Fletcherize the calico 

And pull out wads of hair 
When now and then, as if by chance, 
I lapse into the speech .of France. 

But — blame it on la guerre. 

My accent's not Parisian, yet 
It's tres bien, so said Lizette — 

And surely she should know. 
She never frowned and said )ion, non! 
But she would smile and say, "Bon bon! 

Old, Old, I get you, Bo ! 

Jolie Jeanne plays the Marseillaise ! 
I ball myself in many ways 

When this I try to say. 
But tres, merci, chere, and beaucoup 
I say just like the Frenchies do — 

Admit it, s'il vous plait. 

Yet if each time I paries vous 

These friends must throw a fit or two 

And shock their systems so, 
I think I'll stick to plain Anglais 
And say adieu to all Francois — 

My Soldier-French won't go ! 

[ 50] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Spring Styles 

"Well, you may talk 
Of woman's wiles 

Of all these lat- 
Est skinny styles ; 

Rave over girls 
Built like a slat ; 

But I must say 
I like 'em fat !" 

A girl that's fat ? 

Oh, no, no, No ! 
No lap, no waist 

Nor high nor low ; 
An oozing mass 

When weather's hot — 
You like this type? 

Well, I do not ! 

For me, a girl 

That's sylph-like made, 
Who's just the same 

In sun or shade; 
And as for me. 

And I'm no churl, 
Where there's no waist — 

Then there's no girl ! 

[ 51 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 

No hefty bunch 

Of av'rdupois, 
No dray-horse girl 

Shall share my joys; 
But pocket-size, 

A featherweight, 
Will find me most 

Affectionate. 




[ 52 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Strictly Proper 

or Miss Propri'ty up an' say : 

"Why will you chilluns ack this way? 

Whenever I go out to walk 

I see you two — an' people talk! 

Miss Grundy says to me today : 
'They go to ride, an' stay an' stay. 

How come her pa don't take a hand 
An' call 'em down to beat the band ?' 



"I've tol' you time an' time again 
A man should call but nozv and then, 

Unless the priest has called the banns 
An' date's been set for jinin' ban's. 

" 'Tain't proper, no, an' it ain't right 
To call or ride mos' ev'ry night. 

Hear now the last word that I'll say : 

You break my rules — then you must pay!' 

or Miss Propri'ty, who are you 
That you should tell us what to do? 

Your mammy was a prissy scold, 
Yer dad a crabbed "sis," I'm told. 

You stick to rules your grandma 'ranged, 
Despite the fac' that times have changed. 

Propriety, Convention — these 

Are how determined, if you please? 



[ 53 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



or Miss, if true I love this maid 
Should I go slow and be afraid 

Of what the neighbor-folk will say? 
Nay, nay, a girl's not won that way! 

There're nine and ninety swains, they say, 
Who'd steal this maid. If I make hay 

I needs must work despite the fogs, 
And though it's raining cats and dogs. 

or Miss, if you could see her eyes 
With laughter lit, or in surprise, 

Or questioning, or looking grave. 
Or beckoning — just hear me rave — 

Could see the beauty of her face. 

Her winsome ways, her lissom grace — 

Ah, Miss, your rules you'd cast aside 
And daily beg, "Dear, please come ride." 

Then why not I? I'm human, too. 

It's right for me if right for you. 
You see I've got so much to say 

I've gotta see her ev'ry day. 

or Miss she say, "My boy, you're right ; 

I now see things in difif'rent light. 
My laws still rule the other guy. 

But to your case they don't apply. 

So tell her my permission's got 

To call on her a nawful lot. 
You've found me easy, have you lad ? 

All right, then try convincing Dad." 

[ 54 ] 



In a versatile manner the Jumhler approaches sundry 
thefnes, zvherein is revealed his love for Home, 
Country and Eats. 

1 8 TO 45. 

You Never Can Tell, 

An Ounce of Prevention, 

Fear Not. 

Eat What's Set Before You, 

Show Me. 

Damfino Jones. 

Silent Bill. 

Buster Boy. 

Not Forgetting Dad. 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 

18 to 45 

The Jiimhler found the niche in which he fit — for just one day. 

I'm something over eighteen, yet 
I'm under forty-five ! 

I've no flat feet, no leaky valves, 
No wife and babes alive. 

So— 
With no dependent, no defect, 
Not e'en a near-sight eye, 
Methinks quite soon I'll hear you say : 
"So long! Good luck! Good-bye!" 

My putteed calves will look a sight — 
I'm long, but short on weight — 
My feet won't fit the Munson last, 
My rising hour is eight. 

But— 
The army is gwine ter git me, 
My name's done been enrolled. 
I'd like to be a baby gal 
Not more'n one year old ! 

I'm old enough, I'm young enough 
To do some thing, I guess ; 

So I'll just stop my foolish talk 
And say, "I'm ready, yes !" 
For — 

[ 56 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 

There's not a job, there's not a niche 
But needs some man to fit. 
For you and me there's just one thing: 

Go IN AND DO OUR BIT ! 



They found a job, they found the niche 
They said that I would fit ; 

And in Argonne one foggy morn 
They said, "Now do your bit !" 

Wow! 
Old Jerry seemed to know I'd come; 
His shells all came my way ! 
Ugh ! Mustard gas ! * * * Then mustered out — 
I didn't last one day ! 



[ 57 1 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 




You Never Can Tell 

Harry had two Munson feet 
That grew Hke ice and snow 

At bare suggestion of the thought 
That he to War should go. 

But when the Draft got him one day 
His face grew stern and grim; 

And ere he'd been in camp a month 
They'd made a juati of him. 

'Twas "Captain Harry" soon in France. 

Midst fighting over there 
He got two wounds, a D. S. C, 

Also the Croix de Guerre. 

The moral in this simple tale 

You've guessed, I have no doubt: 

You cannot tell zvhat*s in a man 
Until he's tested out. 



[ 58 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



An Ounce of Prevention 

When first the Flu our old town hit 

I said I'd keep from getting; 
So I went home and with great care 
I shut out drafts and shut out air. 
I sprinkled sulphur in my shoes, 

Then loaded up on blockade booze, 
Some calomel and "C.C." pills, 

Then castor oil up to my gills. 
Each hour on soda I did feast ; 

I swallowed cakes of Fleischmann's yeast; 
I ate ten onions, mighty nigh, 

Then drank a slug of Good Old Rye ; 
Some asafoet'da round my neck, 

Then took quinine, about a peck. 

To keep from feeling all forlorn 

I fraternized with Barleycorn ; 

Then aspirin, say twenty grains, 

And codeine to keep off pains. 

I chewed tobacco, smoked it, too. 

Then took a dip of Mountain Dew. 
I crawled in bed to get a rest, 

Vick's Vaporub smeared on my chest. 
I changed to woolen underduds 

[ 59 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 

And carried 'round two Irish spuds ; 
I sprayed and gargled, wore a mask, 

Snuffed Listerine, then tried my flask. 
I felt my pulse ; at tongue a look, 

And then my temper'ture I took. 
But strange to say quite sick I grew — 

The doctor says I've got the Flu! 
I guess he's right, but this is sure : 

Right now I need the likker cure. 



I wonder if I'd stayed up town, 
Cut out the dope, kept worry down, 

Stayed right at work, not had a drink — 
Would I have Flu? What do you think? 



[ 60 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 




Fear Not 

Why will so many people now 

Give way to frenzied fear ? 
Why will they act as though they thought 

Swift Death were lurking near? 

E'en if Disease now stalks abroad 

And Death rides on the air, 
'Tis not the time for craven acts, 

But courage everywhere. 

I wonder if they stop to think 

How soon the war'd be won 
If sons of theirs showed half the fear 

That they of late have done? 

And why fear death' — eternal life? 

I would not be the one 
To strive to stay on this poor earth 

With sacred tasks undone. 

So, why not chirk up just a bit 

And say good-bye to fear? 
The world now needs much cheering up — 

Pray help supply the cheer. 

[ 6i ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Eat What's Set Before You 

As children ofttimes we were wont 

To criticise and fuss 
About the victuals that were cooked 

And served by ma to us : 
"Too salty" this, and "too sweet" that; 

"You've had this twice since Sunday; 
You always have what others like, 

You might please me just one day." 
And so it went till pa would say : — 

'Twas meant you could not doubt it — 
"Just eat what's set before you and 

Say nothin' 'tall about it." 



Now we are grown and, seems to me. 

Too often we're inclined 
To criticise the things Fate gives, 

And think this life a grind. 
Some things may not just suit our taste, 

Some e'en be quite unpleasant ; 
Someone may get the bigger share 

And failure seem e'er present ; 
But then, let's think of pa's advice : — 

It's sound, pray never doubt it — 
"Just eat what's set before you and 

Say nothin' 'tall about it." 

[ 62 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 

Life's road is rough — but what of that? 

The man who'll growls forswear 
Will top the hills ahead the crowd 

All smiles, with breath to spare. 
And so it goes this wide world o'er — 

'Tis true for saint and sinner — 
The man who silently will "dig" 

Will always prove the winner. 
That's why I say take pa's advice : — 

Try once and you'll not doubt it — 
"Just eat what's set before you and 

Say nothin' 'tall about it." 




63 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 
Show Me 

There is a dame I know you know, 

Who'll make big talk, will brag and blow 
About the waffles that she makes, 

Also her corn and buckwheat cakes — 
But always my cake's dough. 

She tells of this or that one who 
At breakfast, once ate twenty-two ! 
And when she feared that he would bust 
He raved and railed and almost cussed, 
And said he wa'n't half through. 

I've hinted and I've begged this dame 
To just for once treat me the same. 
But always she the question begs, 
Or's out of cream, or maybe eggs. 
Or some excuse as lame. 

Yet here am I, so thin and pale, 

While she, dear soul, is plump and hale. 
If she's the best cook in the South, 

Why let me stand with watering mouth ? — 
She should be sent to jail! 

Now, I'm from out Missouri way, 

Where "Please show me," is what they say. 
I'm hungry and too weak to walk, 

So "Please feed me, or stop your talk !" 
I'll tell her this today. 

[ 64 ] 



I 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



A pawfuU and a mawfuU I 

Must have or else I fear I'll die. 
Her talk does naught but aggravate ; 
It does not help my famished state 
Nor hunger satisfy. 

Unless I get a waffle quick, 
Unless I get it awful quick, 
I'd better beat her up, I guess, 
And mar her beauty more or less — 
Unless I get it quick ! 




[ 65 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 
Damfino Jones 

Damfino Jones, a mental drone, 

Had no opinion of his own ; 

He grew to manhood meek and mild, 

But he was Indecision's child, 

It was the same in weal or woe : 

He "wasn't sure," or "didn't know..' 

In business he would hesitate 

To buy or sell until too late ; 

So, naturally he ran in debt — 

But hasn't run back out as yet. 

When asked when he a debt would pay 

He "couldn't just exactly say." 

In romance he just "couldn't just exactly say." 

If he loved Blanche or Isabel — 

He married Jane, and, safe to say, 

'Twas she who kept the wolf at bay. 

And with religion, mixed he got 

When asked if orthodox or not. 

In politics he'd weigh and weigh. 

And then not vote on 'lection day. 

And so he wavered till he died 

And never did one thing decide. 

Now I don't know, but it is said 

He isn't now quite sure he's dead. 

[ 66 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 

Take note of men who've made success : 
They tell you "No" or tell you "Yes" 
Right off the bat, nor step aside 
When faced with questions to decide; 
While men like Jones just paw the air 
And never do get anywhere. 
This truth shines out like bright new tin: 
Think for yourself if you zvould zvin. 



[ 67 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Silent Bill 

I have a friend called "Silent Bill," 

Aged ten, so says the Bible ; 
To me, in years, no word he's said — 

Strange truth and not base libel. 
He seems quite bright, and sees and hears- 

In fact you'd think him normal ; 
But not a sound comes from his lips, 

Not e'en to greeting formal. 

When he's at home, so I am told, 

It's talk, talk, talk, and chatter ; 
When I'm around, why is he dumb? 

Explain, what is the matter? 
Am I an ogre fierce and wild 

With looks and mien ferocious 
That cause to cling unto its roof 

The tongue of this precocious? 

"Oh, no !" says he, "you're not to blame." 

(The answer comes by proxy.) 
"The fault's not yours, but all guilt lies 

With my dear mother, foxy. 
I'd like to talk of lots of things — 

But ain't my ma the limit ? 
She starts her tongue — so what's the use? 

I'm out, 'less I butt-in it." 

[ 68 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 

"It's 'seen not heard,' so I've been told, 

Or else a strapping vi'lent. 
I fear the gad, and that's why I 

Remain still Bill-the-silent. 
Now, when you scrap about her size 

I'm mum, but try to figger 
How she could squeeze in through the door 

If she were any bigger." 

"But when she twits you 'bout the thatch 

You've lost from off your attic, 
I'd like to reprimand her then 

In language quite emphatic. 
I've waited long and ground my teeth, 

And frowned upon her patter ; 
But I'm convinced she'll ne'er run down — 

She's stuffed with ceaseless chatter." 



Dear Silent Bill, stay silent still ; 

To change, pray do not bother ; 
You're dearer far just as you are ; 

I'd true not have you other. 



[ 69 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 
Buster Boy 

The Jiimbler, like Foss, loses a boy, 

I have a friend called "Buster" — 

A little child last Fall- 
But now he's grown so very big 

I scarce know him at all. 
Almost a man ! His folks are proud 

And fairly beam with joy ; 
But I — I feel I'd rather cry; 

For I — I've lost my boy. 

No more he'll perch upon my knee 

And ask me to relate 
How Li Chi Fair and Chang-the-Good 

Were saved from saddest fate. 
And Jelly Jar and Big Black Bear 

He'll treat with sneering scorn 
And say, "Now please do stop and think 

How long since I was born." 

Time flies so fast it takes my breath ! 

Soon he'll forget it all — 
The rhymes we wrote, the games we played, 
None, none will he recall. 
The world may praise him as a man — 

God knows I wish him joy — 
But I — I'll brush away a tear 

And long for Buster Boy. 

[ 70] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Not Forgetting Dad 

A new kid's come to our house ; 

A peach, I'm here to tell ; 
And things are topsy-turvy Hke — 

Still — Father's doing well! 

'Twas 3 A. M. this morning 

That it began to squall ; 
Some neighbors got excited^ — 

But Dad wa'n't feased at all. 




(Ufr- 



'Twas — oh, yes, quite expected— 

And welcome, I opine; 
And bibs and socks and— things are made, 

And — Daddy's feeling fine! 

[ 71 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 

Another Christmas present ! 

Gee, that's hard luck for fair ! 
The Old Man says, "Mere bagatelle, 

Why should a fawther care?" 

How's Mother? Oh, she's so-so! 

The Kid? Well, it will do. 
Of Papa we are glad to state 

That he will sure pull through. 

Then, here's a cheer for Mother; 

One for the Kid we give ; 
Now ready — give a score of them : 

Doc says that Pa will live! 



[ 72 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 
Chromatic 

We've got a nice red moo-cow-moo, 

But doesn't seem just right. 
She eats green grass the whole day through 

Then gives us milk that's white. 

"Red cows, when on blue-grass are fed, 

Give white milk." Is this true? 
I am so green, when this I read 

It straightway made me blue. 

A Flare Back : 

We also, have a moo-cow-moo. 

She isn't red, but black ; 
The milk she gives, it isn't white, 

But blue, — alas, alack! 
Methinks that you'd be black and blue 

Had you your due, young fellow ; 
But matters not the shade or hue. 

Just so you're never yellow ! 



[ 73 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Enuf! 

When "dis ol' vvaggin am done broke down," 

I feel 'twould be a sin 
To hold your love dirough Pity's sake 

For what I once had been. 

"Yours till death !" is what they say ; 

But isn't it enough 
To say, "Dear Girl, I sure am yours 

Until the wheels fall off?" 



And here the Jumbler entertains the children with a 


fezv Nursery rhymes: 


The Evening Bath (Apartment Next Door). 


The Dirty-Neck Policeman and the Black-Hand. 


Do You Believe in Santa Claus? 


Shaving Time. 


The Big Black Bear. 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



The Evening Bath 

(Apartment Next Door). 

I try to read — but really, what's the use? 

You'd think, I swear, 'twas Bedlam broken loose ; 

A scream! And then I hear, "Oh mercy! Ouch! My ear! 

I surely cannot stand all this abuse ! 

You're gouging me and pulling out my hair ; 

My skin's rubbed off — 'tis more than I can bear ! 

Now really you're not heeding or you'd see my nose is bleeding ! 

I believe you would kill me if you dared !" 



I jump up from my chair and grab my gun ; 

I must be quick or murder will be done ; 

I rush across the hall and loudly 'gin to call : 

"Unnatural parent, wouldst thou slay thy son?" 

Upon the door I then begin to beat, 

And straightway hear the scamper of bare feet; 

Then "Mother" stood and laughed, said, "Surely you've gone 

daft— 
I'm only giving them their evening bath." 



She calmed herself and then she sweetly said, 

"I always scrub 'em 'fore they go to bed; 

But don't see why my daughter should have such fear of water ; 

[ 76 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



And Buster, — why, it simply drives him mad ! 

I really don't see what I'm going to do, 

Despite the fact it greatly worries you ; 

Of course it may seem mean but I'm going to keep them clean — 

And I don't know how unless I scrub 'em down." 



So "Cleanliness is next to Godliness !" 

It may be so; but really I confess 

I'd let them go as black as night and look just like an awful 

fright— 
Unless the Gold Dust Twins'd do the work. 
What matter, pray, if streaks run 'round the neck 
And dirt be under nails, about a peck? 
I'd rather, oh, yes, quite, that they were black than white — 
If I disturbed the town when bathing them. 




^^^^^3^^^5«^^^^^^^^^^5^5S?^ 




[ 77 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



The Dirty-Neck Policeman and the 
Black Hand 



Oh, run ! Oh, mercy, run ! you Httle children, 
Just as fast and quickly as you can ! 

For here comes the Dirty-Neck Pohceman, 
And I'm sure I see the Black-Hand man. 



So, scrub, scrub, scrub your little hannies, 

And your necks, pray don't forget them, dears ; 

These men will surely get you if you're dirty; 
They'll pay no attention to your tears. 



The Dirty-neck Policeman he jes' grabs you. 
And if he finds your neck's not clean and white, 

He carries you away in spite of begging, 

And keeps you from vour mother all that night ! 



Next day his ugly wife gets soap and water. 
And scrubs you with a great big curry-comb; 

And if you cry she fills your mouth with soap-suds, 

Till you promise you will keep clean when you get home. 



[ 78 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 




.^w^v V, <y^ w<*— 



^^^%.- 



The Black-hand Man keeps hidin' 'round the corner, 
A-Iookin' at your knuckles and your nails ; 

And if they're dirty he jes' rushes at you 
And grabs you with a hook — he never fails ! 



And then he sits down on you when he's caught you, 
Sandpapers you until you're bleedin', My! 

And he jes' laughs and chuckles while he's working, 
And rubs you all the harder if you cry! 



So it's best to keep quite clean, or you'll be sorry ; 

You never know just when you may get caught ; 
The Dirty-neck Policeman's mighty watchful, 

And the Black-hand Man's a-hidin' 'round a lot ! 



[ 79 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Do You Believe in Santa Claus? 

"Aw, youse kids make me orful tired, 

Talkin' 'bout Sandy Claws ! 
Huh ! Don'tcher know he's jest a fake, 

And nothin' 'cept our pas? 

"When your ma tells you all this rot, 

Don't believe her no more; 
Get wise! I've watched and seen pa work — 

Dere bluffin' makes me sore." 

"O Jim ! You shouldn't say such things !" 

The rest intreated him, 
"For if you do you'll make him mad. 

And he'll forget you, Jim." 

"Of course Old Santa's sure-nuff true, 

An' comes 'round every year 
An' brings you things, if you are good — 

We think him just a dear. 

The fairies, you'll be saying next, 

Are make-believes also. 
Just 'cause you're tough (our mas say so) 

Is no sign that you know." 

Well, Christmas morning came, and Jim 

His stockings rushed to see. 
He took one look and then he cried, 

"They're empty as can be!" 

[ 80 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



But then he found, by hunting 'round, 

A suit of underwear, 
A tooth-brush and a handkerchief 

Upon a kitchen chair. 

He cried and cried and then ran out — 

Was anxious so to see 
If others in the neighborhood 

Had fared the same as he. 

But Mary had a baby doll. 

And Jamie had a sled ; 
Virginia had some roller skates, 

An air-gun had small Fred. 

Besides, much candy they all had, 

And lots and lots of toys 
And things that Santa always brings 

To real good girls and boys. 

"Now fellers, w'at's the answer, say? 

I'm mad enough to swear ! 
I needed skates — why did I get 

A suit of underwear? 

"It seems that you-uns ev'ry one 

Has got most everything 
That you have said for weeks you hoped 

That Sandy Claws would bring." 



The answer is, dear children : 
Old Santa Clans don't doubt. 

For if you do — the truth I tell- 
Like Jim, you'll be left out ! 

[ 8i ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Shaving Time 

When Dad gets out his safety 
The family 'gin to quake; 

They huddle 'round the doorway, 
Nor dare the silence break. 



When Dad gets out his safety, 
A hush falls on the air 

And Fide runs to hide him 
Beneath a friendly chair. 

Then Ma, she tiptoes gently 
To fetch him water hot, 

And lest he want for towels 
She lays him out a lot. 

One of us goes for talcum, 
And one for shaving soap ; 

Another gets witch hazel, 
Cold cream and smelly dope. 

Then we withdraw us quickly 
And watch him from afar ; 

A safety's mighty dang'rous — 
It wouldn't do to jar. 

[ 82 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



With face all white and soapy 
He scrapes his cheeks and chin; 

The way he frowns and winces 
It surely hurts like sin. 

But when the job is over 

And Dad looks clean and young, 
We all resume our breathing, 

And songs of praise are sung. 

As Dad cleans up his safety 
You ought to see him strut 

And brag about how easy 'tis 
His face to never cut. 



When Dad's put 'way his safety 
He laughs with fiendish glee 

To think the grasping barber 
From him will get no fee. 

But ev'ry silver lining 

Has dark clouds lurking near : 
Tomorrow morn Dad's safety 

Brings back our hour of fear. 



[ 83 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



The Big Black Bear 

Come, bear with me, I'll tell to you 

Of Big Black Bears with children two; 

Of Father Bear, too ready to dare. 

And Mother, and the cross she bare. 

'Twas "Cinnabar" and "Blackberry" that Pa Bear his children 

named ; 
But simply "Bairns' was nicer far, the mother stoutly claimed. 
A lively time these children had, of pleasures had no lack ; 
The thing that tickled them the most was bareback pick-a-pack. 
This man Bear was, oh ! so wicked and sly. 
He'd steal and then tell }'ou a barefaced lie; 
The older he grew the more he would fight — 
Stuck on himself 'cause he could read and write. 

This Big Black Bear was a grouchy bear. 

And a cross old bear was be ; 

He snapped and clawed and l)ristled and pawed 

And growled ferociously ! 

This Big Black Bear broke open the door 

And walked right into the groc'ry store ; 

He ate all the sugar, he ate all the ham, 

And left not a cent for the groc'ryman. 

He wrapped up honey and choice candies 

And he then left a note: "Just charge 'em. please; 

I'm gaunt and sore, I've come a distance. 

And take enough for bare existence." 

[ 84] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 

The grocer, next morn, collected some men 

And tracked the foot-prints right up to the den ; 

The Cubs, when they came, were out all alone, 

But raced through cubbyholes cut in the stone. 

The Bears laid low, kept out of sight, 

Cubs snuggled down like it was night. 

"All right," said the men, "we'll sure get you yet!" 

And then went to work a big trap to set. 

They got it all fixed and placed on the ground. 

And then lots of honey scattered around ; 

And then, lest some traveler its sight should miss. 

They nailed up a sign that looked just like this : 




As soon as they had gone quite a while 

Old Pa Bear sneaked out, then called with a smile 

"Come out, hustle up. there's notliing to fear; 

There's honey enough for all of us here !" 

"To me," says Ma, "this thing spells ruin; 



[ 85 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



I feel that there is trouble brewin' !" 

"Tut, tut !" says Pa, "just like a fool ! 

'Tis plain you never went to school. 

If you could read you'd plainly see 

That this was sent a gift to me. 

*Bee-ware' is honey, surely you know ; 

And 'For-Bear' is what it says below. 

Now cubbies, you see how much you need 

To learn right soon to write and to read. 

So study real hard, become a power — 

A Cub reporter, some day, or maybe the bar." 

"Dip in," said he, "la, la it's swell ! 

And then let out an awful yell ! ! 

For the trap had sprung and caught him fair 

The fam'ly quickly ran to the lair. 
Then ping ! ! crack ! ! crack ! ! a loud report ! ! 
"All in !" cried they, "Oh, my, what sport !" 
They skinned him and carried away the dead; 
But not a pall-bearer once bared his head. 
On this Bear's sad end the grocer oft does gloat — 
What's now left of Pa is a big winter coat. 
When the weather's cold (not immodest nor sin) 
The Grocer comes forth just in his bear skin. 
The Cubs, thus bereft, were frightened quite, 
They sobbed and they cried with all of their might. 
"Come, Bairns," said Ma, "let's off to the wood ; 
I'll get you a new pa who'll do as Bears should. 
She did it and made a most excellent wife. 
And all are now living the happiest life. 

[ 86 1 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



Missing You 

Impelled by loiiesoiueness, the Jumbler is inspired to this bit 
of sentimental rhyme. 

Feeling mighty lonely ; 

Yes, getting pow'ful blue ; 
Dearie, here's the answer : 

I'm missing, missing yon. 

Rain beats 'gainst the window, 
Or skies are bright and blue ; 

Doesn't seem to matter — 
I'm missing, missing you. 

Days are long and tiresome, 
And nights seem endless, too ; 

Slumber is a stranger — 
I'm missing, missing you. 

Writing rhyme is easy, 

'Bout all that I can do ; 
Ev'ry word in English 

Now wants to rhyme with You, 

[ 87 ] 



THE JUMBLE BOOK OF RHYMES 



If I thought, my dearie, 
That you missed me, too, 

I should then be happy 
In missing, missing you. 

Joy Hves close to Sadness, 
The steps are short and few : 

Changing just one letter 

Makes ''missing" "kissing'' you. 




[ 88 ] 



INDEX 

PAGE 

Greetings 9 

Introspection lo 

An Acknowledgment 1 1 

Pay! Pay!! Pay!! 12 

Taffy and the Man 13 

Myself vs. Me I5 

To "The Quiet Observer" 16 

A has Polyanna 18 

If You'd Marry I9 

To My Valentine 20 

All Mine in Dreams 22 

Should Dreams Come True 23 

Lotus Eating 24 

Fergit Dem Dreams 25 

Fickleness of Maidens 28 

Constancy — As Applied to One Man 29 

Handle With Care 30 

The One and the Only 31 

My Garden 33 

My Threnody : 35 

Eternity 3^ 



A M EDLE Y : 

I, 'Ear, Noes 38 

Ode to a Sylphine Figure 38 

Feelin' Blue 39 

A Bare Story 39 

A Trutli 40 

Hooverize 40 

Fine 40 

Fugax, Sequax ; Sequax, Fugax 41 

A Betrayal of Irish Ancestry 41 

Exit Cooky 41 

Tlie Limit 41 

Safety First 42 

Unbearable 42 

Wrong Prescription 42 

Seeing Double 43 

Wisdom 43 

Just Talk 44 

The Man Who Made Umph-ta-ta Smile 46 

Myself and Me 49 

C'est la Guerre 50 

Spring Styles 51 

Strictly Proper 53 



i8 to 45 56 

You Never Can Tell c;8 

An Ounce of Prevention 59 

Fear Not 61 

Eat W'liat's Set Before You 62 

Show Me 64 

Danifino Jones 66 

Silent Bill 68 

Buster Boy 70 

Not I'\jrgettin,<r Dad 71 

Chromatic 7Z 

Enuf! 74 

The Evening Bath 76 

The Dirty Neck Policeman and the Black Hand 78 

Do You Believe in Santa Clans? 80 

Shaving Time '^2 

The Big Black Bear 84 

Missing You 87 



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